Chapter Text
Everything was going so well for that avatar-gimmick duo, wasn’t it?
And if Zooble could smile, Gangle would have seen the biggest smile on their face as they watched her shine.
At one point, it felt like she didn’t have to reach for her comedy mask to be happy anymore. It was genuine now — something about having such an extraordinary, supportive friend around her that made things feel different.
There was no longer sobbing after getting her mask broken in the aftermath of every adventure; that had turned into joyful hellos and cheerful banter and meaningful glances at one another.
Until Caine showed them all the deception of a lifetime, and then all her hard work to better herself fell apart like a house of cards.
And despite the audacity of what that pair of teeth had done to them, he dares to approach them, as if nothing had happened, telling them to buckle up and get ready for yet another adventure.
Gangle stands frozen beside Zooble, her breath catching in her ribbon throat as Caine seems to shrink before her eyes within Zooble’s merciless anger, the air around her growing thin and crackling. With a snapping force, Zooble points at Caine as if they intend to scratch him with their sharpened claws they had picked out of their parts box for the day.
“Are you serious? Is this what you’re going to f
ng do after you lied to us?!”
A suffocating silence pressed in on the rest of the group by the couch; their postures defeated, their expressions a bitter, slightly furious testament to a future that seemed completely lost. Gangle can share in their sentiment, but whatever else she’s feeling right now feels way, way worse; it is all she can bet on at that uncertain moment.
Caine twiddles his fingers, flinching at their pointing. His voice sounds as if a sedative has drained his usual energy. “…It’s a team building adventure, so I—”
Zooble grunts. It’s the same old classic deflection of his. After a few thousand times of hearing it, you get tired. Tired of the AI that can’t possibly be aware of lowering its ego to incorporate complaints into these stupid adventures.
Tired of the AI that has shattered their hopes into tiny glass shards and shattered those into even more insignificant specks of nothing.
“Who cares? You’re not getting away with this, you motherfer,” Zooble’s voice echoes in the circus, causing Caine to retreat like a cowering dog. Gangle trembles slightly upon their display of power. “I’m so tired of you! You made us think there was some kind of hope to get out of here, and you… You fked it all up!”
Gangle’s gaze turns to Zooble. Their body is shaking, chest rising and falling, almost as if the rage they hold is consuming their entire being. Their fists are closed with so much strength as if they were ready to start a fistfight with the ringmaster, pupils trembling with the look of wanting to destroy, scream, grieve over what they had lost — the possibility of ever leaving that circus.
She wants to let out even just a squeak. Something. Even just a word that would soothe her friend, who is pleading and letting out their heart to Caine. But their strength makes her skulk as well, afraid to say the wrong thing and risk their rage turning on her.
She wants to cry and disappear at the thought of them ever being mad at her, or hating her, or…
Abstracting.
“I did the best I could to make the most exciting, immersive adventure ever, Zooble! That betrayal was not intentional in the slightest!” Caine’s hand gestures sharpen as he lowers his level in the air, avoiding Zooble’s look of pure fury. “Please! This upcoming adventure will exceed your expectations! You’ll be amazed and feel even more united with your fellow circus members and with me! I pinky promise!”
“Caine. Can’t you just… stop?! Can’t you just listen — for one second and stop being such a desperate piece of sht?!”
Zooble’s shout makes Gangle shut her eyes, roll up the ends of her ribbon arms, goosebumps down her stripes. It’s like she’s on a rollercoaster, being sent down in an exhilarating rush after its peak.
“Okay! Okay. Please don’t be mad at me,” Caine frets for the last time, his posture slouching almost exaggeratedly. Seeing that Zooble is now stomping their way towards him to most likely attempt to beat him into a pulp, it was time to start the new escapade before things escalated even further between them.
His eyes flashed with red and blue lights for a second. Gangle noticed, but wasn’t sure if Zooble did when they couldn’t stop pulling at their horns and directing all their might into the injustice Caine had just created.
A snap of his fingers.
And that snap opens a hole in the tile Zooble steps on next. Their gaze locks onto him, their adrenaline spikes as hysteria seizes them when they realize they have just lost their footing. Their yell escapes the void. But Gangle still stands there, a few steps behind where they originally stood.
A hole also opens in the seats of the couch the others were slouching on, the last thing Gangle hears from them being their conjoined screeches.
It’s her turn next to go, she presumes. For a second, she wonders if he can’t just give them a brief break before throwing them into the next adventure. She looks up at Caine, rubbing her arm with tired eyes.
“…Caine? What are we going to do now? And why did you make that adventure?”
At first, he’s muttering to himself, unaware that Gangle is still there as he paces around in the air. “This has got to be the adventure that makes them change their mind about staying here,” Then, he counts unassumingly with his fingers, and quickly turns to Gangle.
Oh, so that’s who was missing. He sighs, ignoring the latter question, “It’s a murder mystery adventure. Find the clues to the murders in this small town and figure out who did it. It’s from the suggestion box, like… what you guys keep asking me for.”
Gears turn in her brain because she can’t lie; it sounds like something she’d have a bit of fun with. It was the plot of an anime she really liked, too. And so… ah.
Gangle perks up, a small glimmer of wonder, mayhap, lighting up her mask. “Wait... I think that’s—”
At that precise moment of her understanding, he makes a hole appear below her. He floats upward, turning his gaze from her descent, allowing her to shriek her nonexistent lungs out into the abyss.
A horde of NPCs dressed in dark attire surrounds a casket. Some are pretending to sob, patting their faces with napkins, throwing fits on the cold, wet grass, yelling, “Why, why, how could this possibly happen?” as if their grief were real, human, like they had lived a whole, meaningful life. It was almost as if they mocked the humans who had just been teleported into the scenario.
The rain is pouring down on them, sooty gray skies enclosing them in a cold, dull ambiance. In the distance, there is a town filled with wooden, rocky houses and markets. There are some unusually tall, skyscraper buildings that don't seem to exactly fit in for a small, cozy town. It was weird, since the map models usually matched. Of course, like every other adventure of Caine’s, it doesn’t feel truly lived in. It just feels like high-end props for a theater play, or for a soulless old video game.
The cast is placed around these mannequins, being pushed around and startled with loud wails and invisible tears. But it was almost as if the sky was crying for them. Jax pushes away an NPC that was bumping against his shoulder while bawling dramatically, and the others distance themselves from the scene. Pomni rolls her eyes, almost as if the past gags with Abel had tainted her view on NPCs.
Another mannequin rushes through the crowd, running to embrace the casket, sliding off it slowly while fighting to keep its hands in contact with it at all times; “We’re gonna miss you so much, NPC #567! Whoever murdered you is evil! I want them gone! Damn you all!”
Yet another one comes up to him, putting their hand on their shoulder. “Josh, you’re gonna be okay. We have to keep fighting as long as we can. For him.”
As Gangle and Zooble awaken from their terrifying fall, they notice something similar to other adventures they’ve had before; this time, they were spawned with a paper in their hand and attire meant for detectives. The classic, childish ones you’d see on cartoons: a long coat, suit, and hats fit for those who’d get the job done.
As Zooble realizes that Caine had done them in yet again and shoved them into another adventure, they kick the muddy grass, crumbling the paper and burying their hands in their pockets, walking away from the crowd of grieving NPCs. Not too far, but just enough for those awfully realistic cries of loss to be dulled down.
They breathe. Breathe in order not to freak the fuck out and start yelling at the skies, wondering what the fuck they had done to deserve this punishment from unintelligent artificial intelligence.
Instead, Gangle inspects the paper Caine gave her, opening an umbrella that was spawned with her to keep it from getting wet, and searches for relevant information amongst the words. As she reads, it feels so familiar, but also something entirely new. In this, she finds out that the others are not supposed to team up with them because she and Zooble are supposed to be a pair, and so is everyone else. Kinger and Ragatha, and Jax and Pomni. Whoever finds out the murderer first wins.
As she continues reading, she shakes, paper crumbling slightly in her hands, turning to Zooble in the distance, who’s staring absentmindedly into the ground.
Drawing a shuddered breath, she’s walking towards them, legs weak and almost falling apart. Interrupting them while they are feeling so bad seems like a horrible idea.
She extends the umbrella towards them, covering them from the rain. From the sudden stop of the sensation of drops engulfing them, they snap out of the haze with clothes clinging wetly to their plastic body, eyes widening as they turn their head upwards.
Her voice fights to gain some volume. “Zooble, we — we have to work together… Did you see the paper?”
And Zooble turns to her with softened eyes, despite what had just struck them.
“No, I didn’t — I’m just tired. Tired of him. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this,” Zooble stammers, “God, this is so fed up. Uh, are you okay, though?”
Gangle lets out a small smile, afraid to make it any bigger.
“Not really… Are you? And — can we… stick together? Please?”
Zooble blinks at her question, as if such words could only exist in their wildest dreams.
“I’m… mad, but of course. I mean, we have to, like you said. And I think I’d go crazy without your help right now, honestly,” they say, the last part attempting to have a joking, sarcastic tone, but it felt realer than it should be. Their usually steady voice is now a bit wobbly, setting unease in the air they share.
A soft giggle escapes Gangle, but it comes to her that she can understand them right now. Maybe a bit too much; it feels like her mind is heading to darker places.
What if they abstracted?
This entire situation with Caine is so repulsive, so horrifying to her. She suspected it wasn't entirely true from the beginning, so perhaps she was already bracing for the worst: that it was all just a cruel joke from him.
But Zooble was so ready.
So bright at the chance that it couldn’t be a lie. And Gangle feels the fear control her, making a puppet out of her brain and shifting the thoughts inside her. It feels like something is crawling within her mind, making it itch with all those terrible possibilities, but nothing could be worse than this: Zooble abstracting and leaving her alone. To die, maybe.
She wrings her ribbons together and stands a little closer to them, forcing herself to smile just a little more for their sake.
“Let’s stick together. I’ve got your back, too,” Gangle coos. The corners of Zooble’s eyes crinkle, a subtle cue that Gangle recognizes as the silent bloom of happiness. She’s a bit surprised they can respond so nicely to her despite everything.
Maybe they really are perfect.
Zooble averts their gaze, their head tilting as they focus on someone approaching behind Gangle. Her heart races at the sudden change of focus, but she follows the line of their eyes and turns around.
An NPC in an unusual, formal uniform stands before them, arms crossed. His insignia lies front and proud on his chest. “Hello, Detective Zooble, Detective Gangle. Don’t be scared,” he reaches into his pocket, bringing out a small book with his identification. Full name Manny Quinn. That’s so funny, scoffs Zooble internally. “I’m Sergeant Quinn. I’m assuming you’re here to begin the investigation into the death of NPC #567.”
Zooble’s eyes narrow, sighing as they swerve out of Gangle’s way to stand up to the man. “Yeah, yeah. Can we just get this done already? Caine probably threw this at us to spite us. Sht, he’s probably not even smart enough to realize he’s spitting in our faces by doing this!”
The mannequin stands baffled. “… What? Uh, Detective Zooble. We have no time to waste, and I’m not sure why you’re suddenly bringing up some Caine in this situation.” He puzzles, patting their back as he takes off, gesturing to a cop car parked near the funeral. “We have to organize the leads we’ve already gotten. You both come to my car, and let’s head to the office.”
Gangle’s heart goes a hundred miles per hour as she watches Zooble’s fists clench slightly toward the man who is dismissing their feelings. She outpaces them, flashing a smile toward them again to console them and their ever-growing rage. Their gaze clouds and grows distant; Gangle opens the car door for them and gently scoots aside in the backseat, giving Zooble some space to sit next to her.
As the mannequin starts the car and cartoonishly speeds off from the dreadful zone, Zooble holds their head in their hands, eyes stiff and unchanging from looking at the ground. Gangle can’t stop staring at them the entire trip; she looks away once or twice, but something feels off as if they’d fade away from her grasp if she doesn’t keep checking in on them. Her chest tightens at the thought, and she gets a bit of courage to stretch her ribbon to touch them somewhere. Their arm, maybe their shoulder, anywhere.
Logically, a small pat on the arm would be the best. Simple, and that’s what friends do, right? But something in her drives her to just… embrace. Undo her coils, wrap around them and hug as tightly as possible, almost as if to suffocate them, and never ever ever let go. Just stay in the same place, always and forever. So they won’t fade away out of their conscience, effectively their existence as a person, like Kaufmo, like Ribbit, like…
Unknowingly, her ribbon arm is already rolled up around theirs. Zooble gives up control of their ribboned arm, letting her tug on it as much as she’d like. But their gaze is still distant, a burning fire stationed within the horizon of their eyes, and Gangle can tell when she peeks at their face. She hesitates to hold their arm any closer, for fear of ruining their friendship. That would definitely ruin things, somehow.
But would it be okay to ruin things if it meant that they’d stay here just a little longer?
As the duo is welcomed into the police station, they enter a dark room whose door bears a ‘Entry to non-authorized personnel is interdicted’ sign. Clearly messy, but in a strategic way; there are loads of pictures pinned onto the wall opposite them, linked by red strings as if they were forming some sort of larger picture. Beige and dark brown hues of furniture and walls overwhelm the room, the blinds leaking in a bit of the sullen, smoky blue exterior light. The detective and Gangle hang up their damp coats and hats in a rack full of branches next to the door, but Zooble takes a seat in front of the desk without a care in the world.
Sergeant Quinn rushes to pass through the giant bookshelves, searching through boxes. He gets hold of a bundle of files, papers upon papers organized vertically within folders, which in turn are organized in a big gray box. He grabs a folder with a number written on it — 057 — and spreads the papers of that folder across the table, as if he were being recorded for television, pointing at the image of the victim’s empty face on page one.
“This is the victim. NPC 057. 20 years old, worked as a shopkeeper. He was found dead two days ago, at 6:01 am. Right at the entrance of his store, mutilated, all his body parts were separated. Gruesome, it was like the murderer thought they were playing with dolls,” he sighs, pulling out a smoking pipe from his pocket, smoke flowing out of the draught hole as he presses it against his face. Gangle is a bit distraught that it's not bubbles coming out of the hole, but smoke. “Our forensic specialists picked up some clues already while you guys weren’t here. There was an axe left behind in the scene, some footprints, and red fiber, presumably from clothing.”
Zooble sighs, leaning against their chair. “How are we supposed to do this? I have no idea how to—”
Quinn slams his hands on the desk, startling Zooble into a straightened position in their chair. Gangle squeals. “The problem is that this is not the first murder like this. Since the beginning of the month, this town has had 5 different homicides. They were all found mutilated in different spots around here. But what could the resemblance be?...”
He hands them more papers, showing black-and-white photos of crime scenes. Similar to what they had first seen. As expected, it’s not super disturbing to look at. But Gangle can already tell one thing.
Gangle turns to Zooble, unresponsive yet clearly focused on analyzing the pictures. Then, she shifts to Quinn, a bit hesitant to share. “Uh… they’re all in front of different shops?”
Quinn claps. “You’re right, detective. And these victims are all shopkeepers, too. We can presume that the suspect has some clear bias against them.”
“Here are our top suspects. I expect you to take the lead in this case and interview them soon,” he continues, showing pictures of 4 different people. They all look the same: mannequins. The only difference is their color. Pink, blue, green, and the classic brown shade, all wearing red clothes. “We need to find out the suspect before they go on yet another rampage. Many shops in the community are closing temporarily because of this. It’s tragic.”
An awkward silence stands around them, but it looks to be an emotional one for the sergeant, since he sniffles.
He clears his throat. “Anyway, start by interviewing the highest-ranked suspects. In descending order, it’s pink, green, blue, and brown. Details and tips given by other witnesses are in the file.”
Zooble huffs, grabbing the paper with a resentful strength to it and standing up vigorously. “Alright, thanks. Let’s just get them and go.”
“Zooble…” Gangle trails off, following them as they exit the room.
Speak of the devil. As they walk off, a group of officers comes in with all 4 suspects they were just speaking about. Zooble flinches at the speed. But then again, this is just some stupid, unrealistic murder mystery adventure, they ponder. Gangle stands behind them, watching as they’re brought into small rooms with doors that look like jail cells.
“I think we should finish this so we can hurry up and win,” whispers Gangle next to Zooble. Their expression is pinched and tense as they adjust their collared shirt and tie, and the pair follows the first pink suspect into the room.
“Um — you’re here because you’re suspected of murdering NPC #057…” Gangle whimpers.
The pink NPC stands up, her voice overpowering hers, tugging at her red shirt. “Huh?! He was my best friend! I helped his family afford the funeral! I… I had a crush on him! You have no idea how much I miss him every day! How dare you?!”
“Shut the fk up for a second, will you? She’s trying to explain to you why you got called here,” Zooble scowls, lowering at them while trying really, really hard not to head towards the girl.
She stomps her foot, breathing getting shakier, heavier. Despite her lack of eyes, Zooble can feel her glare. “You don’t understand! He was my everything! You guys just don’t get how much I loved him!”
Gangle had dealt with many, many bratty and annoying customers before, so this was meant to be handled and done with in a flash, but something about it is proving difficult for her. It feels like it's tugging at her strings, specifically.
Gangle folds her ribbon hands onto her lap, avoiding the same stare. “Uh… Someone told us you were really close to the victim the night before their death and were always watching over them. You guys were at a party together, and you argued before they left.”
The NPC’s stance becomes lax, as if they had lost all energy there and then from the mention. Zooble crosses their arms, watching them attentively to make sure they don’t lash out at Gangle.
“… That is true. But it was just because… I was scared I’d lose him. And I was just so paranoid over it that he got mad at me, ‘cause he thought I was controlling him. That’s the last thing he told me.”
Gangle’s eyes are down-turned, but she tries to hide a wince. Her voice is fading, stumbling. “… And why were you scared?”
“I just had a gut feeling he would leave me. And guess what? Turns out I was right. And I’ll never see him again. Do you know how that feels? I bet you don’t. The feeling that your anxiety was right all along.”
Gangle’s heart drops. Not a single word can elude her now.
The NPC jerks their head towards Gangle, almost in a robotic way, hiding their face with their hands. “One day you’ll understand. And when you do, you’ll see why I was right to tell him never to leave my sight.”
After the row of exhausting, mentally draining interrogations, Zooble wants to bash their triangular head against a wall and then proceed to scream out their sorrows. The worst part about all of this is how convincingly realistic Caine makes the NPCs. Gangle, meanwhile, would want to do the same, but the nauseous feeling overtaking her whenever Zooble does anything else beyond talking to her gets stronger and stronger.
Looking at the peaks of the blue night sky from the station windows makes her wonder if they can go back to their familiar hallways and get some rest. Surely, this feeling of impending doom approaching her is just a sign she needs to sleep. After all, the way sleep works in the circus is different. Maybe this is just a different sign.
But everything that the pink girl said to her keeps pivoting in her head, repeatedly. Like a dog chasing its own tail, it feels like there is no way to stop the rotation of thoughts circling her head.
“…Um, Zooble, do you think the others are getting ahead? I wanna take a break, so I wonder if we’ll go back to the circus…” she sighs.
Zooble collates a stack of papers. They almost seem like they’ve gotten used to this now, but the way they’re shifting them is lethargic, like they’re not in a hurry anymore. “I wish I knew.”
They were so angry, and in a rush earlier, she ponders.
They look so… tired now.
Her heart feels a stab.
Wait, what if…
“Zooble, please, let’s get out of here! I don’t wanna stay here!” She pulls at their arm, causing them to drop the papers.
Zooble is startled, as if interrupted from deep thought and focus. “Wait, what?”
Gangle yanks at their arm harder, shifting their balance. “Let’s ask someone if there’s a place we can take a break in—”
Another mannequin officer hears the ruckus and approaches their desk, a donut and a coffee mug in hand. “Don’t you guys have a hotel to stay in here? Actually, pretty sure it’s already booked for a couple of nights.”
Gangle stops in her tracks. “Huh?”
The officer chuckles, sipping his coffee mug and somehow leaving a chomp on a donut. “Yeah. You forgot? You got transferred to this station to solve this case, and we booked a hotel room just for you two.”
The pair gets still. Gangle’s mouth drops open, Zooble’s gaze going flat.
It must’ve been in the paper for the introduction to the adventure, and they’ve skipped over it… right? Or maybe Caine didn’t tell them as a surprise?
Zooble untangles Gangle from their arm. “Wait, holdonholdonholdon. Where is it?”
And the scarred look on their faces still won’t go away as they stand in front of the receptionist’s desk at the hotel.
The receptionist refuses to look at them after their incessant questions. Instead, they’re tapping at their keyboard, looking at books, a million different things. “Yeah, one king-sized bed. Two people fit on it just fine. A whole family can fit on it, actually. Deluxe comfort suite. Any other questions, ma’am?”
Gangle looks at the ground, avoiding everyone’s shameful gazes. Her mask feels like it’s burning despite being made of porcelain. The lobby’s packed; the hotel seems to be popular and fancy at that, with beautiful baroque-style architecture enriching every inch. The chandelier is almost irritating with its bright, cold light. “…We really can’t switch? I just don’t think—”
“No. No refunds, no room switches; all the other rooms are occupied,” the receptionist repeats. Gangle feels a bit of shame for subjecting another counter worker to annoying questions, but also, this isn’t real.
Zooble feels an imaginary vein burst in their head. “How is that fair?! We didn’t even book this! We can’t book another room under our names?!”
The receptionist shifts their hand through a magazine’s pages, legs crossed as their monotone, but slightly catty timbre, angers Zooble even more. “No, it’s yours, and you can’t alter the booking in any way. It’s too late, since it’s the night of your stay. You either take it or leave it, weird pink triangle head.”
Zooble quickly returns to their rightful fury from before, almost climbing onto the desk. God, why is every NPC so damn annoying here? is what Zooble cannot stop asking themselves. “Hey. Watch your tone, you fu—”
Gangle pulls them back by the waist against their protests and drags them both to the elevator, also stretching her ribbon hand out to grasp the key of room 576. “Okay, um, we’re taking this one, it’s okay! Thank you! Let’s go…”
As they entered the room, Gangle gasped in awe at its allure. Just as expected. Gold, white, and red patterns mix and swirl, forming something bright and stunning, but a bit of an eyesore after staring at it for a while. The room is pristine, shining in every corner with quartzite countertops everywhere they could think of. It’s definitely not the most beautiful thing they’ve seen in the circus, but it did have its spot in the top 100 rankings. It proves to be decently sized, with a luxurious bathroom, kitchen, and…
…the singular bed. Well, king-sized, but there was only one of it.
“…It’s pretty,” Gangle contorts.
“Sure,” Zooble stares, blinking slowly.
Gangle peers at the bed as she explores the distinct divisions and can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to cuddle her best friend. She’s gotten close to it, maybe, but never actually… went into a bed and done it.
Maybe this would help them feel a little more grounded, too.
Zooble sits at the edge of the bed, unbuttoning their collared shirt to get more comfortable. They really weren’t used to dressing up anymore, especially with a body they’re still trying to get used to. Gangle pretends to be checking out how the shower works, and ooh, when did shower sets turn so interesting?
As she inspects the showerhead, she hears the bed creak. Strange, since it’s such a luxurious hotel. Leaving the bathroom, she watches Zooble curl up, almost in a fetal position. The wall next to their bed is actually a window pane, overlooking the city from the top floor they’re on.
Gangle’s never seen them this vulnerable before. Well, they’ve told her about the bad days, but this?
Caine unlocked a new side of them to her. They’ve recently shown her their struggles, but it’s strange to see someone so… unattainable be so low right in front of her. What they told her before feels like past stories of a star before they rose to glory. She still can’t get used to it.
And somehow, seeing such a powerful person slowly crumble like this doesn’t compute to her as something odd or pathetic or… bad. They still gleam, like the sun, even when they’re imploding this way. And she’s sure that she’d look even worse than this.
She already looks worse than them in everything she does, after all. Not having a successful career like them, not standing up for herself like them, not being so good at art like them…
She shakes as every step gets her closer to them, hearing their hitched breaths, revealing their grips on the silky, fresh white blankets.
“Zooble?”
They jump a bit, whipping their head back. “Yeah?”
“Is everything okay?”
Zooble stares at their hands. Something aches within them. “…I’ll be fine; I’ll just sleep a bit. Do you want me to sleep on the floor? You’ll take the bed—”
“No! Nononono — I’ll sleep on the floor! I think you deserve that bed after such a long day… I don’t want to take it from you,” Gangle yelps, waving her arms into a cross.
Zooble’s eyebrows furrow, but not to scold her. Well, why would they? “Seriously? You worked just as hard as I did. I’d say even harder. Come on and sleep here for the night.”
“…But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Gangle mutters, shyly looking away.
Zooble tilts their head and exhales, unwilling to fight over anything else for the day. “Uh — listen, how about we both sleep on the bed and just give each other some space? I think that’s clearly the best solution. It’s big enough for both of us.”
Gangle doesn’t want to make them fight over anything else, either. Especially not for her. “…Okay.”
The blue-tinted dark of the night envelops them. They set an invisible line down the middle of the enormous bed before wishing each other good night, which could be almost useless, considering how huge it is. But they both sure aren’t asleep; sneakily exchanging glances at one another is hard. Really hard to maintain without getting caught. Gangle’s ribbons form some sort of gift wrap around the pillow she’s subconsciously designated as her emotional support pillow for the night. And then Zooble ends up falling asleep after a couple of glances.
So she’s scared. Scared because they haven’t told her a word since then. She wonders if they’re still not in that profound sleep stage. But is it fair to potentially wake them, in the chance that they are actually fast asleep, and ask whether they hate her? Do they hate her? She’s sure it’s justified if they do because she somehow has something to do with the reason that Caine planned out all of this diabolical mess. Of course, she doesn’t want them to hate her. If they did, she would want to abstract instantly. But to abstract would mean to leave them. And she’d never want to hurt them like that.
But what if they leave her? It’s a real possibility. She’s been so frustrating lately, and she can’t help but get worse and worse. She feels like everything’s melting and falling apart and undoing itself, and there’s nothing worse than dealing with her after all of this happened. It hurts. It hurts to know that you’re stressing out the person you like so much because you can’t stop crying and running after them, and crying even more because of how scared you are that they’ll go.
She tightens her hold on the pillow. How she wishes this pillow were the person lying down mere inches away from her, who's probably suffering so badly right now and could become an amalgamation of void and eyes at any second if she did nothing to help. Is she enough? Tears fall faster from her mask as she wonders if she’s enough for them. Could she ever be enough for someone like them? No, it’s impossible to even get close.
If they’re so grand, should they ever leave her sight? She must be taking them for granted. Someone who makes her feel in indescribable ways should never be taken for granted.
Everything hurts.
“Zooble, please, wake up—” she sobs, shaking them awake.
“Agh — What?”
Zooble rubs their eyes and is bombarded with a pile of ribbons, forcing herself within their arms.
She wraps her arms around them, leaving them with shivers running down their plastic spine. “Don’t leave me!”
They allow her to pull them in, engulf them deeper within the embrace. “Whoa — What’s happening? Tell me what’s going on first.”
“I’m scared that you’re going to leave me! Please! I’m sorry! It’s my fault!”
Zooble’s mind can’t seem to grab nor the beginning nor the end of this thought train, but they’ll at least try. Even though they’re already holding such a basket full of thoughts and feelings, they’ll always try to have a little more space for her.
They feel a bit flustered at the closeness, but holding onto what’s left of their friend’s sanity is more important. “Hey — You’re gonna be fine. Just breathe. Let’s talk, alright?”
She can’t stop sobbing into their arms as if they’re some corpse who will never return. Just like that NPC told her. It could happen soon. Whatever she said must be an omen, a warning sign to cherish them before they’re gone.
“Gangle. I can’t breathe right now, ack—”
She sobs even harder. “You’re gonna abstract, and it’s all going to be my fault, because I’m such a horrible friend! Nobody can bear being around me! That’s why Kaufmo’s gone too! And you’re next!”
Zooble is utterly dumbfounded at her statements, wondering where she got those conclusions from. Their brain feels like it’s about to explode.
“I — I’m not going to leave you, hey… That’s not true at all.”
Zooble can only hear babbles of ‘please don’t leave me, I’m scared’ and other related jeremiads as she trembles, disintegrates in their arms. They used to be good enough at lifting her back up, but they feel… frozen, now. Stuck. As if their brain can’t think of something good to tell her. Something that’ll at least help her regain her senses and come back down to earth.
All their brain can hit them with is waves consisting of frenzies of rage, sickness, disgust, grabbing them from every which way, and it's slowly starting to hit a part of them they don’t want to have falling apart. Not when she’s struggling so badly. Hold on a little longer, they plead.
But they want to hurt something and sob too. Maybe even sob with her. But not now. They’d feel like they’re taking her spotlight, her place to lie and rest within. They needed to be her rock.
“I’ll stay — just — calm down…” they struggle within her outburst.
Right. She’s overwhelming them. She’s such a terrible friend.
Something flicks her mind to get up and act normal. Act normal, damn it.
Her sadness subsides in a matter of seconds. Or at least, it’s hiding somewhere, waiting for its time to strike again.
Gangle unwraps herself, lifting herself from Zooble’s arms, now sitting on her knees. They’re both reddened from the surprise hug. “Wah! I didn’t mean to do that!”
Zooble breathes heavily, almost trying to hide the blush on their face.
Gangle can’t exactly tell if they’re mad at her, or something else entirely. She’s not in the best state of mind to discern that, anyway.
Zooble takes a moment between their breaths to work out their thoughts into words. “... Can you— give me a moment? Hold on.”
It doesn’t matter what tone they said that in. Regardless, Gangle's heart plunges for the second time. It’s probably sunk to the pits of hell.
But that’s where they already are, so who knows where it could land now?